The black Maybach glided through the twilight, leaving the shimmering, artificial neon of downtown Los Angeles behind. As the city's skyline shrank in the rearview mirror, the landscape began to shift. The towering glass monoliths were replaced by the jagged silhouettes of the San Fernando Valley mountains, and the air, even through the car's advanced filtration system, seemed to grow thicker with the scent of dry earth and history.
Eloise sat close to the window, her fingers tracing the hem of her dusty rose silk dress. She watched the streetlights flicker over dusty palm trees and neighborhoods that felt a world away from the manicured lawns of the De La Vega estate.
"You're quiet," Luciano said.
"I've never really… traveled," Eloise admitted softly, her voice barely a whisper over the hum of the engine. "I've spent my whole life within a twenty-mile radius of the diner. It's strange. The world feels so much bigger out here."
